7 Deadly Sins
by vicodin-vixens
Summary: A series of fluffy-first-kiss oneshots, each relating to one of the sins. Warning: Slash We own nothing but an assortment of fruit-flavoured lip gloss.
1. Pride

**Pride**

House cracked open one weary eye and glanced at the bedside clock.

6:18 a.m.

He closed it again and tried to go back to sleep.

Pulled the pillow up around his ears to block out the sound.

He could still hear it.

Wilson's god-damned hairdryer.

House wondered if having Wilson move in with him temporarily was such a good idea after all.

Wilson was driving him bonkers.

The guy had more bottles of crap in the bathroom than Stacy ever had.

House checked them out the day before yesterday.

There were three kinds of shampoo (shampoo, conditioner, and a masque, whatever the hell that was).

There were moisturizers, exfoliators, sunblocks, and wrinkle creams.

Not to mention the tweezers, nail clippers, electric toothbrush, two different razors (a straight razor and an electric one) shaving gel, shaving cream, aftershave, cologne, mouthwash, tartar control toothpaste and flavoured dental floss.

A comb for when Wilson's hair was wet.

A flat paddle brush for Wilson to use while he dried his hair.

Another brush for when his hair was completely dry.

A loofah on a long handle and a pale yellow poofy-sponge hung up in House's shower.

Body wash that smelled like oranges or coconut or jojoba.

What the hell was jojoba anyway?

House wasn't entirely sure, but he did know that Wilson always smelled incredible.

Not that he would ever tell Wilson that.

Still, House was surprised he didn't find hot rollers and a box of tampons among Wilson's other...toiletries.

6:24 a.m.

The blasted hairdryer continued.

How long does it take Wilson to dry his hair??

16 minutes.

House timed it.

Which meant he had to listen to another 10 minutes of this shit.

Enough is enough, thought House as he struggled to sit up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He was going to put a stop to this once and for all.

He retrieved his cane and limped tiredly to the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes with his other hand.

House flung the door open to reveal a very surprised Wilson.

Wilson clutched the offending hairdryer to his chest, mouth open in shock.

"You're drying your hair." stated House grumpily.

Wilson relaxed and went back to his coiffure.

"You know, I was just thinking that we haven't played 'state the obvious' in some time." Wilson said with a smile.

"You want to play 'state the obvious'?" House asked, his eyes flashing, "Okay, fine. The obvious is that you are fucking gorgeous just the way you are. I don't need you reminding me of it all the time."

Wilson turned around, the surprised expression back on his face, and House took another step closer.

"What-what did you just say?" gasped Wilson.

House leaned forward and captured Wilson's open mouth in a kiss of epic proportions.

He slid his lips against Wilson's, wondering where Wilson hid the lip gloss.

Slid his tongue inside, where it met with Wilson's and he tasted minty-mouthwash-fresh.

Pulled away, slightly breathless and more than slightly aroused.

"I certainly don't need you waking me up to remind me." House growled, turned and walked away, leaving Wilson speechless.

As House neared his bed, he grinned.

Wilson had turned the hairdryer off.

With four minutes remaining.


	2. Envy

House limped through the door and dropped his backpack.

"Honey, I'm home," he yelled.

No response.

Odd. Wilson's car was outside. The lights were on.

Something was wrong.

He sniffed the air.

Something was very wrong.

Where was the warm and inviting smell of a home-cooked dinner?

He'd been looking forward to dinner since breakfast.

House hobbled determinedly into the kitchen.

Empty.

He glared at the stove as though it had betrayed him and held his hand over the burner.

Stone cold.

"WILSON?!" he hollered.

Wilson emerged from the bathroom, clad in House's robe, toweling his hair. "You bellowed?"

"Where's my dinner?"

"I would imagine it's still a glimmer in the eye of the chef at Mama Wok."

He turned and walked back into the bathroom.

House followed.

"I'm hungry."

"The number's by the phone."

"I don't want Chinese. I want whatever you're making."

"I'm not making anything. I'm going out."

Wilson plugged in his blow dryer and began to dry his hair.

House pulled the plug out of the wall. "Out where?"

Wilson sighed heavily. "Out."

He plugged the blow dryer back in and turned it on.

House unplugged it again. "Out where?"

"Out to dinner. With Holly."

"Holly the masseuse?"

"Holly the massage therapist, yes." He held up the blow dryer. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm picking her up at eight."

House dropped the plug. "Please don't let me keep you from the future ex-Mrs. Wilson. I'll go starve quietly in the living room," he spat, leaving a confused Wilson in his wake.

Twenty minutes later Wilson was ready to go.

"I'm leaving," he ventured.

House glanced up from the rerun of Laverne & Shirley he was watching.

"That's a particularly ugly tie. Helen must be a special lady."

Wilson scrubbed a hand over his face. "Holly. Is this because I didn't make dinner? I'll cook tomorrow. Tonight was your night for dishes anyway. You should be happy."

House looked back at the TV. "You'll be late."

Wilson looked lost for a moment. "She's....nice. Attractive. Funny."

"They always are. Try not to propose before dessert."

"Is that it? You're mad because you think I'm an idiot? That it's too soon after Julie? I like her. She's..."

"Nice. Yeah, you said. And, for the record, I know you're an idiot." House stood up. "She's waiting."

Wilson looked at him steadily, then his eyes widened in surprise and sudden understanding. "No. This isn't about me being an idiot. This is about you. You're jealous! I'm going out with a smart, attractive woman while you're stuck here with Laverne & Shirley! This isn't anger! This is ENVY!"

House glared at him, then looked away. "Maybe it is," he said quietly.

Wilson softened. "House, I-"

"What time were you picking her up?" House asked abruptly.

Wilson looked at his watch. "Shit!"

He shrugged into his suit jacket and headed for the door, House following. Before leaving he stopped and turned back. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. And Wilson?"

"What?"

House whacked him in the shin with his cane and pushed him against the wall. "I never said it was you I was envious of," he growled.

He closed the tiny gap between them and kissed Wilson like his mouth held the antidote.

Kissed him with a ferocity that shouldn't have existed outside romance novels and the fantasies of middle-aged virgins.

And just as suddenly as he had begun it, he ended it.

Always leave them wanting more.

House pulled away, leaving Wilson, stunned and panting, clinging to the front of House's t-shirt. He looked down at Wilson's hands and smirked, then took a step backward and Wilson let go reluctantly.

"I'll save you some dai dop woey," House said, then turned his back and headed for the kitchen.


	3. Gluttony

Gluttony

Wilson could almost taste the chocolate now.

He had been saving it all week.

A patient had given him a box of Lindt Swiss Tradition Truffles and he had slowly been making his way throughout the box.

Allowing himself one decadent treat each evening, after a hard day's work.

Starting with the plain milk and white chocolate truffles.

Saving the very best, his favourite, for last.

Macchiato.

Rounding the corner to his office, he licked his lips in anticipation.

White chocolate. Coffee. Milk chocolate.

You couldn't get any better than that.

The sight that greeted him as he opened the door, however, brought all his hopes crashing down around him.

House.

Dammit, he should've known.

Despite the fact that Wilson hadn't told him about the chocolates for this express purpose.

Despite the fact that Wilson had hidden them in a locked drawer of his desk, in a box labeled 'endoscopy tubes', under a folder of old x-rays, in the very back of the desk.

"No." Wilson stated, his anger bubbling to the surface.

House looked up, all blue-eyed and innocent.

Truffle dangling dangerously from his long fingers.

"Don't you dare." Wilson said, hands on hips, afraid that if he took another step into the room, the chocolate would be devoured instantly.

House raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"I've been saving that all week! You have no right, no right to come into my office, _break in_ to my desk and steal my food!" Wilson's voice rose an octave with each passing syllable.

"What, this?" asked House, raising up the chocolate. "You had to know I was going to find it. You don't keep endoscopy tubes in your desk."

"If you eat that chocolate, I swear....I'll....I'll..."

House looked amused at how flustered Wilson had gotten over a silly little chocolate.

"You'll what?" he challenged, finally popping the cup-shaped truffle into his mouth.

Chewing and grinning at the same time, House watched Wilson struggle with words for a moment.

Then Wilson did the unthinkable.

He marched over to House, grabbed his shoulders and pressed his mouth against House's.

House's gasp of surprise was enough to let Wilson slide his tongue forward, tasting the warm, sweet chocolate melting in House's mouth.

Wilson let out a soft groan of pleasure.

Whether from the delicious chocolate or the kiss, House wasn't sure.

Breathless, Wilson finally pulled back and licked a smear of chocolate off his lower lip.

"Don't ever steal my food again." he said, turning his back on House.

Wide-eyed, House could only stare.

If he had known that chocolate was the way to Wilson's heart (and mouth) he would've done it long before now.


	4. Sloth

House stood at the foot of the bed, watching the figure huddled under the covers.

He strode over to the window and lifted the blinds, allowing the sunlight to bleach the darkness of the room.

The blankets snorted and rolled over, but did not awaken.

House prodded at the lump until it groaned and sat up, disoriented.

"House?" Wilson croaked, looking at him blearily, "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you soup." House stated simply, and without warning, tossed a can in Wilson's general direction.

The can landed somewhere in the vicinity of Wilson's lap, and he picked it up, blinking slowly.

"This is creamed corn, House." he said, then turned and coughed, great wracking coughs that shook his body and left him breathless.

House shrugged, then made himself comfortable on the side of the bed, "Close enough."

Wilson still holding the can, looked from the corn to House and back again. "You got this out of my own cupboard, didn't you?"

House smiled, "I didn't say _where_ I brought it from. Just that I brought it. Ingrate."

Wilson rolled his eyes and flopped back down on the bed.

"Go away." he said tiredly and closed his eyes.

Wilson groaned his disbelief and frustration as he felt the bed springs creak under House's weight.

House was now lying down, arms folded beneath his head.

"I said-" Wilson was interrupted by a series of three quick sneezes, "Go away. I'm sick. I'm tired. I don't need to be babysitting you."

"You've been off work for two days. Not like you." House said, staring at the ceiling.

Wilson sighed, "I just told you! I'm sick! Get out!"

House turned his head to look at Wilson, who was attempting to pull the covers up over his head.

"You don't look so good." he said with a grimace.

"Thanks. Go? Please?"

The corner of House's mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile, "You know I like it when you beg. But no. I have no clean shirts. I'm hungry. And I'm bored."

Wilson sat up again and ran a hand through hair that hadn't seen a brush in days. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

"Who else am I going to get to do my laundry, cook for me _and _entertain me all at the same time?"

"Oh, I don't know," Wilson spat, "Don't you usually pay someone for that?"

"Touche." House smiled, "But really, Wilson. You look like shit."

Wilson closed his eyes against his mounting frustration. "Yes, you've told me twice now. I'll do your stupid laundry and make you something to eat when I feel better. Okay? Now please let me get back to sleep."

"Beauty sleep you could use." House agreed, then leaned over and pressed his lips gently to Wilson's forehead.

Wilson froze.

But as House pulled back, Wilson did the unexpected.

He grabbed House by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, mashing their lips together and forcing his tongue into House's mouth.

Momentarily stunned, House tried to speak.

"Wilson?"

"House."

"Wilson?"

"Oh, House."

Finally, House put his hands on Wilson's shoulders and pushed him back.

"What are you doing?" House asked, blue eyes wide.

Wilson shook his head, "Kissing you."

"Why?"

"Um. You kissed me first?" Wilson said, looking thoroughly confused.

House laughed and the sound echoed in the bedroom.

"I was taking your temperature. Lips are the most accurate measurement device when you don't have a thermometer."

Wilson blushed furiously. Then dived back beneath the covers again.

"Go away." He said, voice muffled.

House stretched back out on the bed.

"I think I'll stay awhile..."


	5. Anger

Wilson opened the door to House's office and pushed his way inside, a mixture of befuddlement and irritability on his face.

"House, I just had-" his words trailed off as he took notice of House, behind his desk, shoveling food into his mouth from a plastic container. "Is that my lunch?"

House licked the fork and replied, "It was your lunch. Now it's my lunch."

"I asked you if you wanted me to make you some last night!" Wilson said, running a distracted hand through his hair.

House continued spearing Rotini noodles onto the tines of the fork, "I figured there was no point in you making me some, when I knew I would just take yours."

"Of course." Wilson said, with a heavy sigh and plopped himself down in the chair facing House's desk.

"S'good," House said around a mouthful, then gestured with the fork towards his friend, "Bite?."

"No. Listen, I just had the most bizarre conversation with Sara." Wilson said, the strange look crossing his face once more.

House sat forward eagerly, "Did she know about the birthmark on your right thigh? The one that if you squint your eyes and tilt your head looks like a bunny rabbit?"

"How did you-" Wilson began, then closed his eyes and shook his head, "Nevermind. I don't want to know. She broke off our date."

"Is she running away to join the circus? Entering a hot dog eating competition? Did her horoscope tell her to avoid encounters with tall, dark, handsome men?"

"You think I'm handsome?" Wilson asked embarrassedly, then shook his head again, "That's not the point. What's with you, anyway?"

House shrugged, "You said it was strange. I figured it must be exciting-strange. I know you've had girls break off dates before. What's so special about this one?"

Wilson looked at his hands, apparently unsure how to tell House the real reason Sara canceled.

"She...uh..." he chewed at his lower lip, "She said she heard somewhere that I was...uh...involved with someone else."

"And?" House prompted, putting the lid back on Wilson's pasta salad.

"Well, this is were it gets strange," Wilson admitted, "She said you and I...were...well, a couple. Said someone told her that. Now, who would tell her that?"

House raised his eyebrows. "I did."

Wilson blinked, certain that he didn't just hear that. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I did," House repeated, sitting forward in his chair, with his hands on the desk, challenging Wilson, "I told her we were a couple. I didn't say a couple of what."

"House!" he stormed, jumping out of the chair and causing House to grin, "You purposely led her to believe we were romantically involved!"

Predictably, Wilson began pacing, and waving his hands in the air in frustration. His patience had worn thin and he was about to snap. When he did, it was nearly audible.

"You _knew _I wanted to go out with her. I've been talking about it for weeks. Why would you do that? Nevermind! I know why. You're miserable, therefore I must be, too. Can't let anyone else be happy, can you? You have to interfere in all of my relationships. Two out of three marriages ended in divorce thanks to you!"

He stopped suddenly, stripped off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves.

"You know what? This has gone on long enough. Stand up. Now!" he ordered.

House got warily to his feet, eyes wide in surprise, "You're going to fight me?"

"Not exactly." Wilson growled.

He marched over to the other side of the desk and placed one hand on either side of House's face.

"You think we're a couple? Fine! Let's make it official! We're a couple!" Wilson shouted, then pressed his lips furiously to House's.

Their teeth smashed together; nothing about the kiss was particularly gentle or romantic.

Wilson forced his tongue inside House's mouth and gasped at the warmth awaiting him.

Aware that House was not resisting, some of the anger began to melt out of him, Wilson relaxed his body and slowed the kiss down, his tongue dipping, swirling, exploring, his hands tangling themselves in House's hair and tilting his head back for deeper access to his compliant mouth.

When it was apparent that they could no longer continue the kiss for lack of oxygen, Wilson reluctantly pulled away and looked into House's eyes.

"You _knew._" He said quietly.

"That we're a couple?" House asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile, "Of course I did."

Wilson closed his eyes briefly, "Why didn't you just come to me?"

"Wouldn't have been nearly as much fun."


	6. Lust

**Monday  
**

Wilson sighed as he watched House throw his third strike in a row.

You'd think that the limp would affect his balance. Or trajectory. Or something.

"Stee-rike!"

Apparently not.

House limped back to the console, grinning. "Care to forfeit now, or shall we continue with this ugly charade?"

Wilson gritted his teeth. "It's not over yet."

"The scorecard begs to differ."

Wilson chose not to respond, took a deep breath, grabbed the excruciatingly pink ball that had been House's idea of a joke when Wilson had gone to the bathroom, and headed for the lane.

This wasn't rocket science.

It was bowling.

Fred Flintstone could do this.

_He_ could do this.

Concentrate. Aim. And...

"Yes!" Wilson punched the air. That would wipe that smug smirk off House's face.

He spun around, triumphant.

His face fell almost immediately.

House wasn't looking.

He was _otherwise occupied._

By a 20-something blonde in Daisy Duke's who was currently stroking his cane suggestively.

Wilson arrived back at the console just in time to see Daisy tuck what appeared to be a phone number into House's hip pocket.

"Call me," she purred into his ear, then sashayed away to rejoin a small group of equally scantily clad girls, 3 lanes over.

Wilson gaped at House. "What was that?!"

House grinned. Smugly. "Chicks dig winners." He picked up his ball and hobbled back to the lane as Wilson watched.

Dumbstruck.

And a little jealous.

Of House.

Of course, of House.

Who else would he be jealous of?

**Tuesday  
**

Wilson looked up from his paperwork as House limped through his balcony door.

"C'mon. You're buying me lunch."

Wilson capped his pen. "How generous of me."

He closed the file in front of him and put it away in his right hand drawer, "You know, for a cripple, you're quite agile when it comes to scaling balcony walls."

House smirked. "One of my lesser known talents. I can also say the alphabet backwards and tie knots in cherry stems with my tongue."

"Each new day is a voyage of discovery with you, House."

"Get a move on. $5.95 New York Strip waits for no man."

20 minutes later found Wilson forcefully spearing the croutons in his Caesar salad while House gleefully tucked another phone number into his pocket. This one from a nubile trainee nurse in Cardiology called Desiree.

Who was actually called Desiree anyway? Outside of porn stars and strippers, of course.

"So, which one are you going to call?" Wilson asked brittlely.

"Are you kidding?" House asked, deadpan, "Both."

Wilson impaled a crouton with a particularly vicious jab. "Oh," he muttered, "Right. _Both_."

House smirked to himself, and went back to his steak.

**Saturday  
**

Okay. Admittedly Wilson had been a little confused as to the exact nature of his feelings over the last 5 days, regarding House and his sudden rash of admirers.

He'd thought he was jealous, at first. Envious of all the attention. (3 phone numbers, one bag of free egg rolls, and a wink from Gina in Accounting).

But by the time Kenzi, _Wilson's own receptionist,_ had not so subtly inquired as to House's 'status', he'd been forced to confront the uncomfortable idea that perhaps his real feelings were clearer than he'd care to admit.

_And_ a little more carnally motivated.

_And_ a little less heterosexual.

But he was dealing with it. Kind of.

Or at least he had been until 5 minutes ago.

They were sitting at the bar in the Witherspoon Grill waiting for a table. Watching football and drinking beer, ragging on each other, laughing and eating peanuts. Just the two of them.

All had been right with the world.

If Wilson had suddenly been a little more aware of House's proximity, or the scent of his skin, than usual, so what?

And then _he_ sat down next to House.

Charming McHandsomeface.

Patrick something. Wilson hadn't been able to catch it, as most of what he'd said had been murmured directly into House's ear.

And House was allowing it! Where was the almighty smackdown?! The cruel mocking rejection?!

Suddenly House laughed at something Pretty Boy said, and Wilson slammed his beer down, a little harder than he'd intended, on the bar.

Both House and his new "friend' turned in surprise.

House raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

Wilson was about to shake his head and go hide in the bathroom when he noticed New Guy's hand on House's knee.

Alright. Enough was enough.

Wilson got off his bar stool and walked over to Prince Charming.

"I think it's time you left."

Charming smiled. "Do you?"

House spun around on his chair to better watch the unfolding drama.

Wilson was undeterred. "He's with me."

House smirked. "I am? Gee Wilson, if you like it then you should've put a ring on it."

"Shut up, House." Wilson turned back to Patrick Whatever-His-Name-Was. "I mean it. Get lost."

Patrick raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm leaving." He grabbed his coat and touched House on the shoulder. "It was _very_ nice to meet you." he said, then sauntered down to the other end of the bar.

Wilson sat back down next to House, who opened his mouth to speak.

Wilson cut him off with a hand. "Don't. Say. Anything."

They sat in silence for a moment, then House spoke. "You owe me 200 bucks."

Wilson looked at him in surprise. "What?"

House rolled his eyes. "Middle-aged cripples didn't suddenly replace 20-something guitarists in terms of sexual desirability. Get a clue, Wilson."

Suddenly a voice rang out across the bar. "House/Wilson. Table for 2."

House grinned. "And just for the record, that little display of Alpha-Male posturing aside, you are now, and will always be, the girl."

Wilson sputtered in protest. "I am not! Where do you-"

Then, without warning, House leaned over and kissed him.

Wilson felt a surge of heat roar through his body.

After a moment, House pulled away and Wilson opened his eyes, dazed. "I'm the girl. I can live with that."

"Thought so. Let's go eat."


	7. Greed

**A/N: Technically, this doesn't comply at all with the whole 'first-kiss' thing. Instead, it's an established relationship. Thing 2's various neroses occasionally get in the way of following rules. It does still involve 'Greed', though, so you'll have to live with it. Vive La Revolution!**

House was sitting behind his desk, Magic Eight Ball in hand, when Wilson pushed his way through the door.

He stood in the centre of the room with an expectant expression on his face. "Well?"

House didn't say anything, a thoughtful look on his face. He shook the Eight Ball, then flipped it over to read it's response. Seemingly satisfied with whatever answer the ball had provided, he finally looked up at Wilson. "Hi."

"_You paged me_. I'm here. What's so urgent that I had to leave my annual budget review to come and deal with it?"

House once again said nothing, but picked up a small remote on his desk and pressed a button. Loud music filled the room.

Afternoon Delight.

Wilson put his hands on his hips. "You've got to be joking."

"I never joke about illicit daytime nookie."

Wilson shook his head. "Absolutely not."

Afternoon Delight continued to blare.

"And turn that off."

House sighed deeply and made a put-upon face.

"Killjoy."

He switched the music off, stood up and limped across the room, Eight Ball clutched in his free hand. He stopped in front of Wilson, leaving only inches between them.

"Come on. All the cool kids are doing it."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "As compelling an argument as that is, I'm afraid the answer is no."

"Your lips say no, but my Eight Ball says yes."

House brandished the toy emphatically. Wilson grabbed it.

"Clearly this is an out of my hands then. The cosmos have decreed it." Wilson paused, "And yet... still no."

House sighed, conceding defeat, and hobbled back to perch on the edge of his desk.

"Fine. You can make it up to me later."

"I'll have to 'make it up to you' tomorrow."

House's eyes narrowed. "Tomorrow?"

"I promised my brother and Susan that I'd watch Ethan tonight. I told you this weeks ago. It's their anniversary."

"Cancel."

"I can't cancel!"

"Cancel it," House repeated.

"I can't believe you! No, I will not cancel. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't want some kid touching my stuff."

"He's not 'some kid'. He's my nephew. And fine, I'll take him out. To a movie or something."

House began to fidget with the hem of his shirt. "Fine."

Wilson was incredulous for a moment, then suddenly he began to understand.

"You don't want to share _me_ with a seven year old!"

House looked up and glared at Wilson, who was trying to stifle his laughter. "I told you. I just don't want him touching my stuff."

Wilson smiled, walked over, and stood in front of House. He rested his hands gently against House's chest and kissed him softly on the mouth. House closed his eyes and allowed it for a moment, then turned his head, leaving Wilson with nothing but a bristly cheek.

"Don't patronize me. This is not _cute_. _I _am not _cut_e."

Wilson shook his head. "Never." He gave House's arm a squeeze. "I've got to get back to that meeting."

House nodded. "Right."

He was just opening the door when he heard House call his name. Wilson turned around with a sigh. "What now?"

"Sharing is for people who don't understand the value of what they have. I know exactly what my stuff is worth. That's why it's _mine_."

Wilson wasn't sure what to say. He opened his mouth, but House cut him off by shaking the Magic Eight Ball once more.

"Will Wilson ruin this moment by going all girly on me? All signs point to yes."


End file.
